Not so Happy, Not so Last Day

Back in February, the Doc informed me that my SCT was not 100% successful, and that I'd need more chemo. My original plan was to expect 4-6 months of chemo, even though the Doc just ordered 4 cycles, and be pleasantly surprised if it ended sooner. But I fell for it -- I let myself believe that it would be just those 4 cycles, and I'd hit the target and do the CR happy dance.

I found out yesterday that is not the case, and my face fell, probably like the Berlin Wall. Oh, those naughty numbers are still creeping in the right direction, dragging their heels every inch of the way. But I am definitely not within the parameters for CR. So, of course this means more chemo. And that means more steroids. And that means more diabetes, insulin, belly shots, and all attendant 'roid rage and craziness. This time, poor Dr. A is not predicting how many cycles I will need. I feel like I'm back at square one, with only myself to blame, for not having expected -- or at least been prepared for -- this news. Anger, frustration, disappointment: all completely useless, unproductive feelings. I've got a lot of attitude adjustment to do between now and all the family celebrations.

The icing on the cake? The wonderful, brilliant counselor I saw last fall has been axed, in a "budget cutting measure." A counselor providing critical direct services to patients is out looking for a job, while layers of fat bureaucrats and administrators continue stuffing themselves at the cancer trough.